


Twin Skeletons

by CallaMae



Category: Divergent (Movies), Divergent Series - Veronica Roth
Genre: Action/Adventure, F/M, Romance, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-21
Updated: 2015-10-05
Packaged: 2018-04-22 18:02:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4845110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CallaMae/pseuds/CallaMae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everything is a lie. Her name isn't Emily, she wasn't born in Candor, and she turned sixteen two years ago. It's all a lie. Ironic considering Candors never lied. But she's there with one purpose: infiltrate Dauntless. Only falling in love with the enemy wasn't the plan. Eric/OC</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I just need enough you

Everything is a lie. Her name isn't Emily, her parents aren't Aaron and Laurel Bird, she wasn't born in Candor, and she turned sixteen two years ago. It's all a lie. Ironic considering Candors never lied.

The amount of lies, stacked like bricks so tall the sun is blocked out, are the only thing she can think about as she waits for her false name to be called to take the aptitude test. That brick wall could come crumbling down today if even one person suspected for the past three years she'd been posing as Emily Bell. And they'll all be killed: her of course, and Mr. Bird driven by love for a daughter too dangerous to stay in Candor, and the real Emily who sits hiding with the Factionless beside her mother. If she doesn't play her cards right everything she's been preparing for might fail.

No one would accuse her of being smart, she believed truth was subjective, she wasn't selfless by any standard, peace was an unattainable dream, and her lack of bravery had gotten her real father killed. She is nothing.

But failing isn't the plan. That's not why time was spent getting her into peak physical condition, teaching her how to pass every lie for truth, forcing her to rely on instinct and a courage she doesn't have, nor is it why she sits with her neck on the line surrounded by people who'd hate her if they found out. And it certainly wasn't why Aaron Bird, a good man, spent the last three years separated from not only his daughter but also his wife, while he was burdened with a girl he neither knows nor wants. Failing isn't an option.

She squares her narrow shoulders and straightens her slouched spine, her head high with determination. She could do this, it was simple all she had to be is brave.

"From Candor: Emily Bird."

She doesn't listen to the other name, all she listens for is her own – even if she had a choice, it would never be abnegation.

"Good luck, Em," Christina says standing with her, the other name called.

She gives as big a smile as her nerves allow, which isn't so much a smile as it is a grimace. "You too." Her response is quieter, less approachable.  
It amazed her at first that no one noticed Emily's sudden change in appearance – granted they both have long dark hair, skin more beige than white, exaggerated cheekbones, rounded noses, and small chins, but they're by no means identical. Not to mention she's two years older and looks it. But it's all chocked up to the emotional strain of her 'mother' leaving them and becoming Factionless. Now she's used to it, grateful for it.

She walks into a room with mirrors lining every wall, takes note of her long body visible from every angle – a body two inches taller and several pounds thicker than it should've been. And yet still no one notices. The man in the grey shirt and slacks doesn't look at her and say, you're not Emily Bird – as she'd been afraid of. He simply tells her what to do, his voice kind as are his tired eyes. And she does exactly that, she sits in the lone chair she drinks what he gives her, and when his distant voice tells her to choose she makes the choice she knows she has to. The knife, choice of the Dauntless.

…

"How did the test go?" Mr. Bird asks when he comes home from work, having been as nervous as she had. That morning before she left he wasn't able to say what every parent should, that she'd do great, because that would've been a lie.

She's eating something sweet and crunchy out of a bowl full of milk, not used to food that wasn't selflessly given from Abnegation. "How it was supposed to," she answers not knowing what she feels in the pit of her stomach – relief that they're on track, or dread for the Choosing Ceremony where anyone might look at her face and recognize she wasn't who she said she was. "How was your day?" she barely remembers to ask.

"That isn't the question you want an answer to." He exposes her deception, both knowing she never wanted to hear about his day and that she only asked in the hope it'd soften him.

It's not like anyone else asks you, she thinks bitterly wilting under his sad gaze.

This isn't fair to him, he should've been allowed to leave with his wife and daughter the moment they discovered she was not only honest but also highly intelligent – it was the honesty that would've done her in, because no matter how smart she was if asked she would have to admit she was Divergent. So he sent wife and daughter away and because it was too good an opportunity - what with the girls close in age and appearance - a new Emily was sent back with a mission. Except now Aaron Bird's stuck raising this unknown girl in the place of the father she'd lost, and neither are welcoming. "Are you gonna leave after the Ceremony?"

"No." His answer is short and honest as he sits beside her at a table with two too many chairs. "I will visit to see your progress and then I'll leave to report." There's no warmth in his voice, no fondness as he speaks, just cold honesty and it almost makes her shiver. "Do you remember what Evelyn told you?"

Giving a short nod she answers, "be good enough to pass initiation but not enough to stand out." There was more, much more, but they were things Aaron hadn't been told so she keeps them to herself. She realizes, quite suddenly, that she's never been completely honest with him. "I wish you never had to stay," she tells him with more truth than she thought herself capable.

He touches her hand, maybe to hold it probably to just pat it gently as a show of companionship, but it ends in the tips of his fingers brushing against her warm skin doing nothing but make them want someone else. "I wish for that too," he says with an honesty she's grown accustomed, not meant to hurt or offend but no care for the fact that it did.

She thinks she might miss him. Yet she doesn't call him back to the table when he stands to leave – his thin frame wasting away the less he eats – and she doesn't follow him to his study because she knows he's trying to escape her face that's as equally strange as it is familiar. She keeps her place at the table knowing no part of the home is less sacred than another when every memory and crevice belongs to someone else.

…

She sits with her 'father' listening to all the names called to come forth, and staring at the faces that were unfamiliar to her and finding a few that were. Most of her attention is given to those who chose Dauntless, Peter Molly and Drew she doesn't care for but she likes Christina - as much as she can like someone who thinks of her as a friend yet didn't notice when her face suddenly changed.

Aaron's hand comes to rest on her knee at the call of the first name, and it stays a weighted thing as every sixteen year old stands and chooses their faction. He withheld the truth, something unknown to Candor, she was leaving him and he'd miss her too. Her own hand falls to his wrist and latches on, clings to the comfort of something she thought she'd lost. "I expect to see you again," he says softly in her ear, his voice nearly lost in a cry of loss and a cheer of gain.

Hers is one of the last names called, and with every step she takes her heart beats a little faster – waiting for one person to stand and say "that's not Emily Bird." Those four words might've been her biggest fear and she can almost hear it in her clacking knees as they tremble. But in the end she makes it to the stage and stands clothed in Candor black and white with the five factions before her. Glass for the honest, water for the smart, soil for the peaceful, coal for the brave, and stone for the selfless. After years of belonging nowhere, the freedom to be whoever she wanted, it seems so silly to limit the rest of her life to being one fifth of a person: the idea of factions make no sense to her. But that doesn't say a whole lot when most things don't make sense to her.

She takes the knife a towering weathered, gray clothed man hands her half expecting him to recognize her. As if he'd know her face because his wife did, because his son is her target. But he only smiles with a thin patience and waits like everyone behind her, Jeanine Matthews included. That woman and her ideas was Emily's main target, everything that comes next comes with the purpose of her getting close to Jeanine.

With a sting of the blade and sizzle from the burning coals her choice is made. "Dauntless," Marcus Eaton proclaims and a wild cheer sounds behind her. She looks up at him again, wondering if his son will resemble him, before she turns to face her future.

 


	2. to dull the pain

They're running. She doesn't know why, she doesn't know where, but she knows the cost of being left behind. Factionless doesn't scare her, but failure does. She should be at the head of the group running with the fastest of them, her legs are thick with muscle, she can run. But she forces herself slower, she stays in the middle of them, she doesn't let them see her strength.

The climbing she pauses at. Her arms can bear her weight, they pack a hell of a punch, but she's never climbed a building let alone a support system and at that moment the others were climbing up onto the train platform. She's slower at this, more cautious because falling will take more time than she has to spare, and there's nothing but the side of the metal to hold onto. Her fingers ache, her shoes lose traction, but she continues pulling herself higher refusing to do anything but make it to the top. And then a hand reaches for her - she'd have made it without help and quite frankly she doesn't want it - she lets the boy pull her onto the platform to stand with the others because a normal transfer should need help.

"You're not Dauntless born," he says knowing from her black and white attire she wasn't. Yet she'd been climbing a structure without rungs, effortlessly from his point of view – she'd be competition.

She stands breathless, life surging through her veins in a way it hadn't in a long time. This was fun. "Can't imagine how you guessed," she says not entirely serious but not fully joking either. It's a mix she often falls into, one that got her quite a few severe looks from Candors because sarcasm is seen as a form of deceit. "And from the blue suit I'm gonna guess you're not either," she remarks, her voice raising over the oncoming sound of metal and wind. Behind her is the train, and she knows they're gonna jump onto it before anyone even starts running. She looks back to see he knows it too, and is both excited and worried by it. Their eyes meet and she shrugs, because what are they gonna do but run after the train barreling past them.

The Erudite boy might've been taller than her, his legs taking longer strides covering more ground, but she's faster and she easily matches his pace. With the train on their left she runs with the boy between her and the open door, and they aren't gonna make it if he doesn't find the courage to pull himself in. Without thinking she quickly outpaces him and launches herself onto the train, and before her brain can process anything that's happening she's leaning back out of the door with a hand outstretched. It's his turn to take the help he doesn't want, and glancing hastily at her warm eyes he grabs her hand. In a blur of rushing movement he's sprawled on top of her panting from the running and the excitement of it all. And then she's shoving his shoulders throwing him off her as she sits up. "You're an okay runner, I'll give you that, but you need to work on committing," she tells him as they stand.

He smiles at her honesty, remembering her from the few classes they'd had together – she studied hard, harder than anyone he knew, and she still barely passed. "Will," he greets holding out a sweaty shaking hand.

"Emily," she says in return giving his hand a quick shake, and for a moment it feels like she could be. They don't know each other, he has no expectations of how she should act – she can be herself, be her version of Emily. "Well that was fun," she tells him with a quick twitch of her shoulders him laugh.

"Something like that," he admits staring down at her grinning face. He's seen her for years at school, only noticing her because she was quiet where most Candors their age weren't – but seeing her sharp cheeks rounded by her curled mouth, adding the glimmer of excitement in her dark eyes, he realizes it's the first time he's seen her smile.  
He's about to remark on it, on how open and free she looks without the truth weighing on her shoulders, when a voice behind them calmly says, "get ready."

They both turn looking for what to get ready for, a stop maybe, a person. What they see is a few people in the train cars ahead of them begin jumping onto a rooftop, the sound of their whoops carrying on the wind.

"At this speed?" Will asks in sheer disbelief at the idea of jumping over the seven-story high gap. "Don't they know we could,"

"Hey brainiac," Emily cuts him off, "stop thinking. Jump far enough you'll have bruised knees." She didn't know if it was true, if what she was telling him might end in him missing the roof and falling to his death. But staying on the train would only end in factionless and she's not planning to stay.

An elbow juts out digging into her arm. "Birdy gets it."

Will and Emily turn to see a broad nosed shit-eating faced boy they both know as Peter. There aren't many people who like him, a fact even he's aware, but he carries himself as though if asked everyone would name him as their favorite. Will looks back to Emily, wondering if the two are friends, to see her head shaking and her eyes rolling as she moves to stand behind a boy whose shoulders are an inch above the top of her head.

The boy is Al, a gentle giant, who she's honestly surprised to see in Dauntless – more so after he nervously asked what would happen if they didn't jump. Her first day posing as Emily at the school everyone stared and whispered about the poor girl who's mother left her; he'd been so quick to come up to her and say how sorry he was. If he didn't stay in Candor she would've guessed Amity as his choice, but never Dauntless. And she has to give him a gentle shove to get him to start running so he'd leap off and she could follow after.

She almost keeps her footing, knowing if she straightens her legs and hits the ground like it's a continuation of the train than she wouldn't have to scrape the gravel – but she's Candor born, this shouldn't be easy for her, so she lets herself stumble. Will hits his knees beside her, dirtying his blue suit, and he looks to her laughing. "A graceful pair we are," she admits letting herself laugh with him.

"I thought you'd land on your feet," he tells her thinking he might've been wrong before, she might not be better than him.

Pulling her mouth into a wry smirk she stands dusting off her own knees to find a few small holes had been torn into her black trousers. She considers being irritated, they were a good pair of pants, and she should've landed on her feet like she first wanted. But she only gives a short sigh before her eyes are scanning the people in front of her for who was in charge.

"Alright listen up. I'm Eric, one of your leaders," a deep voice calls gathering the initiates in front of him to listen. The Dauntless born unphased while the transfers don't know what crazy thing they'll be asked to do next. Eric stands, clothed in black pale skin marred by dark painted lines and a piercing above his right brow, on a ledge the width of his foot calmer than any man with a lethal drop behind him should be. "If you wanna enter Dauntless this is the way in. And if you don't have the guts to jump," he looks at the drop behind him, masked from the initiates' view knowing their imaginations were running wild, "then you don't belong in Dauntless."

"Is there water at the bottom or something?" Will's voice is quieter than it normally is, less sure of himself than he'd been a few minutes ago.

Emily knew that answer was gonna be no, it wouldn't be as easy as water – if she's right, and she hopes she is, they wouldn't be able to see the bottom. This was a test, a test of their will, and she wonders how many would refuse to do it.

Eric turns to the boy seeing in the blue of his clothes where the curiosity came from. "Guess you'll find out," he answers not caring to put his mind at ease. And then adds with a shrug, "or not."

Will's resolve begins cracking, hearing in their new leader's snide response the answer is no. They're just gonna jump, seven stories, and hope not to die. When a shoulder brushes his arm he turns to his left to see Emily, a girl he didn't know the name of before today. Her brows are drawn together but her face isn't afraid, and then she shrugs. That small rise and lowering of her shoulders, first at jumping on the train and now as they're about to jump to their possible deaths, leaves him with the same assurance. Oh well, that's what her shoulders were saying – they were being told to jump, so oh well they're gonna jump. He's able to nod his agreement and turn back to Eric, his tattooed neck, his pierced brow and ears, his cold eyes. Will's nervous, but he isn't afraid.

"Someone's gotta go first, who's it gonna be?"

Emily expects someone born in Dauntless to step up, to be excited because this is more or less what they grew up with. But for several long silent seconds they stand there looking to each other with no one wanting to be first. Emily doesn't mind it, she knows much more will be asked of them in the coming days what with all the failed initiates becoming Factionless bitter and angry with many stories to tell.  _"Be good enough to pass initiation but not enough to get noticed."_  Those words ring in her ears holding her still as she keeps waiting.

"Me."

They all turn to see what brave girl had volunteered first to find her wearing the color of Abnegation as she slowly walks forward. They watch her look over the side of the building to see what she'll be jumping into, conviction not found in her small in shoulders. But still she climbs onto the ledge, stands there seconds too long before Eric voices his impatience. And then she jumps.

They wait for screams, they wait for the sound of her body hitting the ground, but all they hear is the soft wind blowing in their ears.

"Who's next?"

The next few minutes dragged slowly on. The second jumper hesitated in stepping forward, as did the third. But a pace began to pick up until nearing the end of the group a few fought their way forward to jump next.

Emily remains quiet as she observes, stepping forward as more and more initiates jumped. She looks up once at Will, not so worried anymore but not comfortable either, and then at Al who's starting to sweat. That is the moment she decides she owes him for his kindness; always opening the door for her, holding her books when she had too many because up until three years ago she'd never been to school though he didn't know that, asking if she was alright after her 'mother' left. She decides she won't leave without him, at least this once. Now she's left with how to convince him to jump on his own, cause from Eric's stern face she doesn't think he'd take kindly to her having to push him.

There's only a handful of them now. Two Candor transfers who changed their minds about being in Dauntless, only it was too late to go back, and Molly minus Peter and Drew. And of course she and Al – Will having already left her.

"You think they're all down there waiting for us?"

At the quiet unsure voice Al turns to see Emily, a girl he'd always liked because she was never mean. She wasn't like she used to be, she didn't smile as much or laugh as often, but she'd been one of the few Candors that knew when it was time to stop talking. "Yeah of course they are," he assures her quickly. "Why don't," he turns to the ledge with a newfound resolve, "why don't I go first."

"Really?"

With one look at her hopeful face he straightens himself and steps forward. Eric watches the large boy walk past, his broad shoulders betraying him because Eric already decided he wouldn't make it if it took this long for him to jump in the first place. And then he looks at the girl, having heard her timid voice, and he's got half a mind to cut her right then if after almost 30 people jumped she's still scared. But soon as the boy turns his back to her those wide eyes close and a smile pulls on her mouth – she'd gotten him to find the courage to jump. Eric already knows he'll have to watch her, make sure she doesn't do it again.

With Al gone Emily steps forward, the word pussy echoing in her mind but she doesn't say it aloud. It's as she'd known, the bottom was out of sight – she already resigned herself to death for treason, nothing scares her anymore.

"You're not gonna encourage them?"

She turns to Eric, finds that up close his pale eyes are even colder and more lifeless than they appear at a distance, and that frigid gaze is set on her with such intensity she knows he heard her talking to Al. He was listening for anyone to prove they didn't belong – he thought he'd caught her, now his mind's changed and he's waiting impatiently for what she'd say. So she looks over her shoulder at the two initiates who stood at the ledge with their stubbornness too great to allow them to jump and Molly who she doesn't really know apart from Peter. And then she turns back to Eric and callously tells him, "I don't know them."

He watches her for any hesitation and finds none. Without first looking at where she'd fall she climbs on the ledge, pausing then but only to see where her body needed to go, before she turns on her heel and lets go with arms outstretched to fall like a flightless bird. Eric waits until she disappears before turning his eyes away, already knowing she'd be trouble.

The net jolts her, sends her back up into the air before she lands on it again, and she lies with the cords vibrating beneath her. Her heart's pounding, her breaths are short, and her mouth is grinning. From the top of roof they'd been jumping into darkness, but from below the sky was bright laughing at their foolishness.

Hands pull at the net forcing her off, and then they're grabbing her waist lifting her off it as if she was a small child. And she finds herself staring at a man with his mother's nose, her jaw, her mouth, her hardened eyes – this was Tobias, the second part of her plan.

"Took you long enough," he says unkindly. "What's your name?" he demands.

She hesitates then, stares at him more daring than she should've before answering, "Emily."

"Congratulations Emily, on being one of the last to jump."

He's quick to turn away, knowing second to last to come down would be one of the first to go. And she's quick to step away from him, not letting on that she knows him.

There are phases to her mission – something she took to calling it recently when it fully hit her she wouldn't come out of it alive. The first phase was to make it to Dauntless, including the three years for Emily to turn sixteen and then of course initiation which may prove to be the hardest part. The second will come after she passes, get to Tobias show him Evelyn had a plan and her 'soldiers' were just as good as theirs – the proof was Emily, because she'd infiltrated Dauntless under Tobias' nose, hell he even trained her. The third falls somewhere between one and two; get close to a leader in any way she can to get inside information. If she was right then it would be Eric, a former Erudite, who was working with Jeanine. So Eric is the one Emily wants. And she already had his attention, now she just needed to keep it.

 


	3. just to get me through the night

They're split into two groups: Dauntless born and transfer. Already Emily sees there'll be a challenge; half of them have trained for sixteen years already, yet the other half – Emily's half – are starting new. Emily herself has a few years training advantage, bur for people like Will who only exercised his brain and Christina and Al who exercised their mouths, they've got a lot of lost time to make up for. It's unfair in every sense of the world, but looking around the dark place as they walk through it Emily doesn't think the word fair is in Dauntless' vocabulary.

They walk quietly through the compound, each room whether titled Pit or Chasm has Dauntless members who stop what they're doing at the sight of "fresh meat." It keeps the group docile as they're led around, seeing in the eyes of others how much they don't yet belong. Not to mention one of them already got themselves in trouble; though no surprise, Christina was known for her big mouth.

Emily though, she appraises it all. The Pit is huge, intimidating, there's so many people. Doubt creeps in, she questions Evelyn's authority and whether they could ever hope to destroy Dauntless, realizes just how wrong things can go if anyone finds out who she really was. But the moment passes and she remembers who she is, that Evelyn and all the others were counting on her do to this and do it right. She shakes off her traitorous second guessings and holds herself higher.

They're lead to a wide room made of cold concrete with beds lined in rows from wall to wall. "You're gonna be sleeping here for the next ten weeks," Four tells them, not slowing even a little to let them look around – they'd get used to it, or they'd defect.

"Girls or boys?" Al asks seeing too many beds for just one but the idea of it still seems barbaric.

"Both."

Not all are dismayed by this, some either don't care, joke, or look to the person they don't mind sharing a room with at night. Every reaction is different, as they are, but at the sight of the bathroom they're all the same. There are a few quiet groans, a seriously, a question asking if there was no other area, and an are you kidding me.

The back wall has two long sinks, nozzles lined up as if they're pigs at a feeding trough. To their right are the showers, or rather they're tiled areas with shower nozzles hanging from the ceiling without hope of covering themselves. And to the left might've been the worst of all, a row of toilets, so that even as they shit they might shit together. It's disgusting, filthy to boot, and even the most strong hearted feels queasy at the thought of using any part of it.

Even Emily, a born and raised Factionless girl, doesn't like what she sees – granted the idea of warm water and toilet paper, luxuries she only had starting three years ago, pleases her but there's little else that does.

"You should feel right at home Candor, everything out in the open," Four snidely remarks as he moves past Christina. "Get changed," he orders them before leaving.

"So he's got a sense of humor," she mumbles quietly, feeling Will nudge her having been close enough to hear. She tosses him a look over her shoulder but she meant it, Tobias will be insufferable if all there is to him is stone; it'd make her job easier if she liked him, make her care more.

Emily isn't surprised to find Will took the bed beside hers. From what she saw he didn't converse much with the other Erudites and when he did it wasn't pleasant – even she and Peter had a rare conversation, before he said something that had her eyes rolling and her giving up. "What do you think so far?" she asks him as they get dressed.  
It's second nature for her to think of how much someone she knew needed the black pants she was taking off, or the white blouse she unbuttoned. Until three years ago she'd been the one needing the clothes. But still she removes them, pulling on a fitted black shirt, even tighter dark pants, and to change it up black boots.

Removing his gaze from her half dressed body Will opens his mouth to say one thing but instead blows out a puff of air and shakes his head as he says another. "A little daunted," he admits, testing the proverbial waters to see how she responded.

"I'm sure if you tell Four he'd give you a hug and tell you everything'll be okay," she says sounding convincingly sincere, her face and her forcibly pursed mouth give her away though and he snorts. "I think Eric would too."

"Maybe pierce my ears while he's at it," Will continues for her making her laugh, something he's never heard and is surprised to find sounds more like a giggle. "Did you see the size of them," he says motioning to his ears for good measure, keeping her laughing, before pulling on his new shirt.

The two are interrupted by an intruding voice. "There's a sound I haven't heard in a while."

Both Will and Emily turn to see Christina, her dark skin her dark hair, her short stature – she looks so small, and with her pretty smile she looks almost too good for Dauntless. "Wish I could say the same, but you never did know when to shut up."

Tris stares doe-eyed between the two girls not knowing if there was a long standing animosity between them, but then Christina laughs while the other girl smiles. Though it isn't much of a smile, not like before with Will, this time it's faint almost cautious as if something is holding her back.

"This is Tris," Christina says by way of introduction, jerking her thumb to the girl on her right.

"Emily," she greets in return, offering her hand to shake. From the gray wad of clothes in her hand Emily realizes this is the Abnegation transfer, impressive in and of itself – already Emily thinks she must be pretty tough, though maybe in spirit because Tris is not only small her rounded eyes make her look terrified. "It's nice to meet you."

Tris watches her go wishing for even a little of her self assuredness. The space Emily took in this world she took with purpose, like she meant to. Mostly Tris wanted to stop feeling small. "She seems nice," she says more so looking for confirmation.

"Oh she is," Christina easily replies. "She used to be nicer, used to smile a lot too. But then her mom left and it's like she took part of Em with her."

As they walk Tris nods along to all Christina says, getting used to the amount of words that come out of her mouth before she took a break. Tris thinks of her parents and how much of them she'd taken with her when she left, if Caleb had taken the rest. She wonders if there's anything left of them now that they'd taken it all.

"Look at that," Christina says nudging her. "It's like being back home."

Tris strains to see Emily's head, shorter than the guys behind her, but finds her walking with Al towering beside her. "Who's behind Al?"

Christina rolls her eyes. "Peter, he loves messing with her. After her mom Al turned into her guard dog, like if he stands in front of her it'll block out everything Peter says."

Whether or not that was what Al intended it didn't work, she always heard everything Peter said.

"When did you get hot?" he asks thinking all this time she was carrying extra weight. But in her new tight fitting clothes he was seeing the curves, the definition, mostly her ass because that's where his eyes are focused. At least until Will steps in front of him blocking the view.

"Don't listen to him, Emily," Al tells her, what he always tells her without ever confronting Peter – mostly because he doesn't like confrontation, and because Peter was cruel.

She glances up at Al glad she stayed to make sure he jumped; whether or not he belonged in Dauntless he at least deserved a chance. "Why not, he's saying such nice things: calling me beautiful, how much he likes me, that he's glad to see me in Dauntless. He's being very sweet today." Her voice is innocent non-condescending, she turns to peer around Will to see Peter's greatly unhappy face with his mouth pulled tight and his brows drawn together. She says these things because there's nothing that shuts Peter Hayes up faster than saying nice things about him, mostly because no one says nice things about him whether or not she really means it. Turning back around she winks at Al and continues on down the hall they're being led down, clothes still in hand.

With her never belonging in Candor she parts with her clothing easily, finds it an incredible waste when the Factionless outnumbered every other faction and continued growing which means more clothes are needed, but she drops them in the fire to burn all the same. It's supposed to be a symbol, burning ties and facing their new faction completely as their family – cause faction before blood and all – but for Emily it's a pointless ritual. She belongs nowhere, to no one, and in the end she's just burning string.

And then they're callously moving on, now donning the color of the Dauntless they leave their past behind them to burn. They're lead down another hall, their destination untold but they quickly figure it out at the sight of tables and benches with people sandwiched together eating. And with the hundreds of new faces somehow Emily finds herself next to Peter. She wanted the seat between Al and Will, where she'd be most likely to sit quietly or at least not hate her entire existence. But no, instead she's between Al and Peter and Peter's finally found what he wanted to say in response to her sarcasm.

"Do you know what people say about parents who abandon their kids?"

She knows he won't stop until his peace is said, until he cuts her. So while she turns to him accepting his invitation to converse, she allows irritation to enter her voice as she says, "I'm dying to hear it."

He's undeterred. "They say it's actually the kid's fault. And it's not that the parents are abandoning them it's the kid driving them away."

But she knows Peter, she's had three years growing skin thick enough that his cruelty barely leaves a dent. "You wanna know what else they say," she tells him around a bite of hamburger, "when boys are mean to girls it's cause they like them." Her face is smooth of all feeling, her voice free of tone, her hand rising to take another bite.

It's why Peter would always keep going, his comments getting meaner and nastier the more time passed. But his smile comes easier, he's more willing to admit he's not entirely serious; especially when he didn't even like her before her mother left. But that might've been because she was different person, a different Emily. "Touché."

She almost thinks they could be friends, a low kind of friend where she doesn't like him most of the time but she'll choose him over a stranger. But then he opens his mouth again, because he always opens his mouth again, says it's more an effort into her pants, which make her ass look great by the way – and it's ruined. Her response, which is more or less a suggestion of what he should do to himself, is silenced by the sudden clattering of a hundred metal cups being slammed repeatedly against the table.

"Initiates."

Though only the new are being called upon all of Dauntless in the dining hall look up to see a middle aged man standing at the railing of the floor above them. His face, though not unpleasant, is aging toward the middle of his life – already his dark skin is creasing, made all the more apparent under harsh light. Emily remembers something she was told once by an older woman who defected: the Dauntless have an expiration date.

"Stand," Max commands.

Emily, already looking at Peter, draws her brows together in questioning but he only raises a shoulder knowing no more than she did. With little else to do Emily stands with the other initiates wondering when 'initiation' would end. She's getting tired of the tests and the rituals, god the meaningless rituals that never seem to end like any of this actually matters.

"You have chosen to join the warrior faction tasked with the defense of this city and all its inhabitants."

She stands immobile, expressionless, face upturned to her new faction leader resisting the urge to roll her eyes. These so called warriors were doing more than defending the city, she doesn't know what yet but she has every intention to find it out.

"We believe in ordinary acts of bravery, and the courage that drives one person to stand up for another. Respect that. Do us proud." His tone is firm, detatched, an edge carved into his voice as though he speaks a warning.

As he steps away from the rail the hall erupts in a chorus of clapping and cheering, the others all rising to their feet. At their symphony Emily lowers her chin and looks at their numbers, feels that same doubt creep into her mind and settle in her chest. And then suddenly she's scooped onto someone's shoulders. For a sliver of a moment she thinks it's all over, they figured it out and she's being restrained. But people are still cheering, other initiates are hoisted up with her over a sea of hands.

They're welcoming her, all of them. This is happy. She forces her mouth to smile as Peter to her left is doing, though his is far more convincing and much less contrived. A hand above the ones on her back grabs her arm, and she turns to see Will with a bright smile on his sharp angular face. His grip slips down her arm as the hands beneath them pull them in different directions and they're left holding onto each other by the tips of their fingers, and suddenly her smile isn't a thought anymore. And she's laughing, thinking maybe not all Dauntless rituals were a waste of time.

…

She lies awake in the dark listening to the sound of even breathing, now that Al has cried himself to sleep the others are able to follow suit. Except her. It's been so long since she's had to sleep without the stars watching over her; Aaron Bird found her asleep on the floor under the skylight her first night in Candor and after the sun had risen and fallen again the couch had been moved so she could sleep on it and still see the sky.  
As a child her father told her stars were the souls of all who'd been let into heaven and one day the sky would be filled with their light. There aren't many things she believes in but she believed in him, and his star shined the brightest every night. She'd watch the remnants of his soul blink in and out and pretend he was still with her letting her lay her head on his lap as he ran a hand over her hair. But he was always gone when morning came, and the sun did nothing to warm her.

With a heavy heart she sighs and rolls onto her stomach forcing her mind to think of anything else. It sticks on all that happened that day, all the questions she has and all she doesn't understand. She grew up without choices, with no opportunity, no hope to dream of anything better.  
Everything about today was strange: they took a test to tell them their faction and were then given a choice as if they had free will to do so, and now they'll be forced to compete to stay in the faction they're told to put above family. She shifts her weight on the thin excuse of a mattress and wonders why the test alone doesn't decide the faction – there would be no need for an initiation, for decision and error as teenagers are certain to make, finding divergents would be a thing of the past as every inconclusive test result would reveal them.

It's one of the reasons Evelyn had noticed her, why she'd had it in mind to use her – they share similar thoughts, believe in the same ideals. And she was just vulnerable enough for Evelyn to mold her into the perfect weapon.

 


End file.
